


A Distant Land

by redmustang



Category: the GazettE
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 00:38:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redmustang/pseuds/redmustang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Are you a guitarist?</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Distant Land

**Author's Note:**

  * For [myownpace (livejournal)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=myownpace+%28livejournal%29).



> While writing this, I listened to Ulli Bögershausen's 「A Distant Land」. If you get the chance to, please listen to it while reading this piece; it's on YouTube. It's an instrumental arrangement for classical guitar, so for those of you who don't take kindly to certain _songs_ , this musical piece without vocals. So please listen to it.
> 
> ( Musical piece is at the following YouTube address: www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kel1UWODObo )

Spring has always been portrayed as a beautiful season, emphasizing on the rebirthing of life, and creation of new, _wonderful_ memories.  
  
I met him one spring morning many years ago. I remember cherry blossoms had surrounded him at the time. I had been at the park across from where he was sitting. I was supposed to meet my girlfriend at the time, but she was running a bit late; said she forgot to drop something off at the post office. I knew better though; I knew that she was dolling herself up for me, which I thought was sweet.  
  
I remember I could hear him strumming an acoustic guitar. He was a terrible guitarist. His notes buzzed a lot, watching his left hand alignment made my hands hurt, too. I cringed at how terrible he played, and I hoped he wasn't thinking of stemming a career from playing guitar. After a few more minutes of enduring brutal abuse to my auditory senses, I got up from my bench and went over to him.  
  
I remember asking him a rhetorical question, something along the lines of — _Are you a guitarist?_ — or so. He had said no, and from there out, we stemmed small talk about music.  
  
My intentions had been good, I was going to teach him a thing or two about how to play guitar. Not to brag or anything, but I was a far more superior guitarist than this guy would ever be.  
  
I managed to do that, but the more I talked to this guy, the more interested I became in him. Not because I was interested him in _that_ sort of way, but he had this sort of… interesting awkwardness about him. He seemed like a quiet kind of guy, but his body language and choice of vocabulary made him all the more interesting.  
  
We didn't get to talk much after that, because my girlfriend had shown up, and I left on the date we were supposed to go to.  
  
Now, my girlfriend and I had this thing going on for us, whether we were supposed to go on a date, no matter where it was, we always met at this park at a fixed time before leaving.  
  
However, it wasn't the last time I saw this guy. Sometimes, I would go and talk to him, and show him a thing or two about the guitar.  
  
Eventually, it became my thing with him as well.  
  
Anytime I would go to the park, I'd make sure to arrive a bit earlier than she would to talk to this guy. What can I say? He was an interesting character, even though we didn't reveal much about our personal lives, and even though I never told him I had shown up to the park to meet up with my girlfriend.  
  
It was maybe a week or two after we met that we found out each other's names.  
  
 _Kouyou._  
  
Akira.  
  
His name was catchy, and made me think of many different things, like the wind, the water, _spring_. I associated his name with spring.  
  
We grew to know each other more, and even though he went to the park to find his peace of mind and practice guitar (which I never found any improvements in his sound or techniques, but I did find improvements in his alignments, although small), we often talked about things such as philosophies in life, things we like, things he don't like, how we empathize with others, sports, shit like that.  
  
I don't know, but I think this guy had been the best friend I never had.  
  
We continued like this for a couple of months. We never hung out outside of our park, so to say. Why? It was something we mutually came to understand that being at the park, under this cherry blossom tree had become our thing, and our thing alone. Although we clicked and became good friends quickly, it wasn't allowed in our relationship to hang out outside of our park, nor were we to mention anything about or personal lives in a present point of view. For example, we don’t mention where we live, if we're in a relationship, things like that.  
  
One summer's day, however…  
  
It was one of our last times meeting. I remember making fun of him for his lack of improvement as a guitarist, and I had scribbled on a sheet of paper the things he needed to improve on. The list wasn't small, but the last thing I wrote was:  
  
 _In a distant land where no one knows your name, all you've got to speak for yourself is an auditory form of art that can save both you, and another person. Stand up and play like you mean it._  
  
Shortly after that, I stopped showing up. My girlfriend and I had broken up right after that he and I had met up. The park held a place in my heart with her, but… it also held my friendship with him. However, I couldn't bring myself to meet up with him for a while.  
  
I think it had been about a month or so that I hadn't shown up. Without any means of contact, how would he have known where I had disappeared to?  
  
This was the only time I had brought my own acoustic guitar in hopes of seeing him. I was determined to finally let him in. In our last few encounters, I got the notion that he wanted to get to know me more personally, though sharing feelings and philosophies, to me, is a much more personal thing to know about someone who hardly shares mediocre experiences about the material life. But still, it was something about each other that would break the ice between us even further, and today, I was determined to give him the means to truly be my best friend.  
  
I arrived an hour early at our usual spot, on the same day I would always see him under the tree. It wasn't where my girlfriend and I had always met up, but the park still held memories.  
  
An hour passed, and he hadn't arrived yet. Maybe he was running late.  
  
Two. Okay, maybe just a bit more…  
  
Three.  
  
Four.  
  
He never showed up.  
  
Was our friendship so fragile as to be inflicted by a month, maybe two, of not seeing each other? Or maybe something happened to him…  
  
I didn't want to think about it. To be frank; I missed the guy.  
  
We shared a bond; it was a bond that I had never shared with another person in my life before, not even with any of my previous girlfriends, I should say. Talking to him had given me a sense of peace.  
  
The last four hours I had spent in the park were spent playing pieces of classical guitar that reflected how I felt. Sadness. Betrayal. Loneliness. Love. I wasn't sure if he practiced every day since I last saw him, but I knew I did. I knew I sounded good, and every emotion I felt based on the melody of the piece was reflected in every pitch and chord plucked by my fingers.  
  
Although he didn't show up after that, I continued to show up the same days we were accustomed to meeting every week at the same time, under the same three.  
  
In the months that passed, I saw my hope thinning, but not dying. Eventually, it became too cold to stay around in the park, because my fingers could not withstand the freezing temperatures of Tokyo.  
  
I don't know why I missed this guy so much. I think I always knew the answer, I just couldn't understand the answer back then.  
  
When the season changed, and spring returned, I found myself returning to the park.  
  
This continued for the rest of the year until fall arrived. I tried to keep my hope burning through the year up to this point, but I think the only thing I got out of doing this was mastery over my guitar and the accompaniment of nature.  
  
I found myself skipping a week or two, returned again only to try a series of different instruments; I didn't want to play guitar. I found him reflected in the sound of the strings.  
  
When I found an instrument that peaked my interest, I stuck to it for the entirety of the following year, and the year after that.  
  
Three years after those seasons I met him, I still returned to that park, long having given up hope, but only returning because my music and nature gave me a sense of peace. I had friends, yes, but they weren't him. They could never take his place.  
  
When spring came around the following year, I returned to the park, as I had done. Now, two years after having put away my guitar for good, and four years after having met him, I made music in the park.  
  
I was different; different hair color, different height, different outlooks on life. .. I wasn't who he met three years ago, physically and psychologically.  
  
Today, after making music, I decided to bring a sheet of paper along. With my case resting on the bench beside me, I started sketching. It started off as doodles, and eventually, I found myself sketching a cherry blossom. Funny how little things like this could be a projection to a link of thoughts in one's mind, because seeing this manifestation of the flower on my sheet made me think of that day that I met him.  
  
I didn't complete my sketch of the cherry blossom. Instead, I stared out into the park. I thought about him; his laugh, his crooked smile, the way his eyes crinkled in the corners where I made him happy, the way his eyes averted mine when we touched on a heavy subject, the way his back slouched over his beat up guitar, his hands struggling to strum and press the strings altogether…  
  
Between my thoughts, and reflecting on how I recalled this guy made me realize why I was still here, sitting on this bench.  
  
I thought I had given up, but experiencing these thoughts told me otherwise. A pang in my chest made me feel like I couldn't breathe. Everything hurt, and my content mood suddenly dropped.  
  
I was sad, and I was sad because I missed him.  
  
I missed him because I loved him.  
  
I only knew him a couple of months, but it only takes kindness, listening to each other, sincerity, caring for one another, and understanding to produce the seed for these feelings, and by often exposing each other to this, I guess that's how my emotions for him began taking root. Shortly after this realization, I set my sketch down onto the case that protected my bass.  
  
My hope was the water for these feelings, and unfortunately, I realized this far too late.  
  


  
 _Kouyou was gone._


End file.
